


sorry, not sorry

by Del



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Del/pseuds/Del
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuji hoards as much of Tezuka as he can.  (Eiji doesn't get it but he helps out anyway.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sorry, not sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This happened because of that one Prince of Tennis Afterschool where Eiji helps Fuji photo-document (stalk) Tezuka eating a sour candy.....sorry.

Eiji doesn’t get it.  

“Tezuka’s so  _boring_.”

Fuji re-checks the zoom on his camera and doesn't respond. Eiji yawns loudly to emphasize his point.

“We should prank Oishi instead; his reactions are _the best_.”

Fuji thinks of Oishi red faced and spluttering. It’s not a challenge but it never gets old.

“Oishi next,” Fuji promises and Eiji cackles in delight.

The wind picks up a little. Fuji hears it sweeping through the trees before he feels it blow across his back. Down below and across the lawn, Tezuka’s regulars jacket ripples in the breeze.

“How do you keep getting up here anyway?” says Eiji, leaning over the railing a little. “Don’t they lock up the roof to keep out the smokers?”

Fuji shrugs.

“I borrowed the key from Dai-chan.”

He skirts around Eiji’s rapid-fire questions ( _the head janitor??? geez, I thought that old guy hated everyone?_    _what do you mean “borrowed”??)_ and peers through his camera. Tezuka is standing on Court A, back straight and arms crossed. The name of the school he carries is printed plainly across his shoulder blades.

Fuji wants to snap a picture but doesn’t. It’s too much pressure to try to capture an image that heavy. He just looks instead, commits the scene to a memory that will erode gracefully until he can’t remember the image at all, just the feeling.

It’s probably better Eiji doesn’t get it. Fuji smiles.

“Ready for your big scene?”

Eiji grins back and does a lazy salute.

“Born ready, Fujiko!”

* * *

There’s a light on in Ryuzaki’s office but her car is gone and so is everyone else. The third floor is empty and the hall lights are off. The glow from the setting sun reaches feebly through the windows. A crow calls once and then takes flight.

He can see Tezuka through the small window, bent over paperwork at Ryuzaki’s desk. It looks like it’s _his_ desk, his office.  Tezuka was made to stand at the front, to give commands, to be the pillar. The teachers sense it; they flinch and bend to his polite suggestions and respectful corrections.

Tezuka pushes up his glasses to rub at his eyes.  Fuji steps quietly into the room.

“Need some help, Captain?”

“Fuji,” says Tezuka like he’s not surprised. Maybe he isn’t, maybe Fuji is as transparent as he feels. Tezuka sighs. “I’m almost done. I have to turn in this paperwork and return the keys to Satou-san’s office.”

The janitor’s office and the head office are in opposite directions. Fuji shifts his bag higher on his shoulder.

“Let me help then.”

Fuji holds out his hand. He expects the papers. He gets the keys.

“Thank you,” Tezuka says, closing a drawer and stepping around the desk. 

They walk out into the empty hall. The sun has slipped lower; the crow is gone. Tezuka taps Fuji’s wrist and shows him the right key to lock the office. Fuji's throat feels tight and he fights the urge to swallow.

“Just slip the keys under his door,” Tezuka says when Fuji pulls the key out of the lock. “He’ll pick them up tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll meet you at the entrance after,” Fuji says. He leaves before Tezuka can reply.

-

Fuji takes the stairs two at a time.

Tezuka really is amazing. Fuji can’t imagine another student in Seigaku’s history who could convince Satou Daisuke to lend out his spare key ring,  _unsupervised._   Did he flatter him? Slowly earn his trust? Was it on the recommendation of the principal or did Tezuka command the head janitor not to obstruct club activities in his sternest Captain voice?

Tezuka must not realize how much it must have killed the old man to part with the keys or he never would have passed the responsibility on to Fuji.  

Fuji tries seven keys before he manages to unlock the door to the roof.

Outside the sun sags lower, clawing at the horizon. He can see across the staff parking lot to the half-finished construction on the apartment complex down the block. The courts look small, their markings abstract and meaningless at this height.

Fuji looks down, down. The sight makes him sick with happiness. Tezuka is waiting at the bottom of the steps. Fuji wants to call down to him but hoards the moment to himself instead: Tezuka below, steadfast and unaware, the set of his shoulders and behind him the setting sun. 

Fuji kneels down and gets out his math notebook. He turns to a free page and traces the roof key carefully. Tezuka checks his watch.

-

At the bus stop Fuji can’t stop grinning. Tezuka doesn’t mention it and they sink into comfortable silence. Fuji wants to break more rules; he wants to follow Tezuka home and tell him he’s amazing. Fuji wants to lean into his space and take as much as he can.

He doesn’t. The bus comes and they take seats near the back. Fuji could get off in fourteen stops and call Yumiko to pick him up, or stay on to transfer later to a different line that runs closer to his house. The same sights pass by in a blur: storefronts, restaurants, alleys and trash.

In the reflection from the window Fuji sees Tezuka turn toward him, expression serious.

“Fuji.”

“Tezuka,” Fuji says lightly.

“If you want something, you should just ask.”

Fuji’s smile sharpens reflexively and he struggles to soften it. His head spins. He forces a laugh.

“What if the answers is no? They say _don’t ask permission, beg forgiveness_.”

Tezuka frowns like the conversation is running off track. He looks unsure, a rare sight indeed, and Fuji can’t look away. Tezuka touches Fuji’s wrist for the second time and Fuji’s breath catches.

“I want you to ask.”

Fuji can’t breathe because Tezuka is looking _right_ _at him_ and saying these things. The bus is empty except for the old woman cradling her groceries at the front. Tezuka’s stop is coming up. Fuji licks his lips and hums. His skin feels hot where Tezuka is touching him. He can see a smudge on Tezuka’s glasses and he wonders if Tezuka can feel his racing pulse.

Fuji leans forward and brushes his lips against Tezuka’s quickly.

“I beg your forgiveness,” Fuji says and smiles.

Tezuka reaches up with his free hand and touches his own lips absently, like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. He opens his mouth and Fuji prepares himself for one of Tezuka’s polite, respectful corrections.

“Want to come over for dinner?” Tezuka says instead.

-

Tezuka calls ahead but the first thing his mom says when she opens the door is still _I wish I had known your friend was coming over, Kunimitsu_. She repeats this several times throughout the meal as an apology. Fuji smiles and ducks his head and says _the food is wonderful_ , _thank you for your hospitality, Tezuka-san_. Tezuka’s grandfather sits at the end of the table, smoking between bites and asking Tezuka about his school day. His father is working late at the office, so Fuji takes his chair.

Fuji answers questions about his family and his school work and his tennis. He tries not to make it obvious how fascinated he is, tries to keep his eye on his plate to keep from memorizing every detail of Tezuka’s family.

Tezuka sets his chopsticks down and clears his throat.

“Can we be excused? We’re going to study in my room.”

Tezuka’s mom frowns.

“Kunimitsu, is your friend finished eating?”

Fuji swallows a lump of rice with difficulty and smiles wide, pushing his chair back. It’s rude, but Fuji can’t think. His heart jack-rabbits in his chest, his stomach churns.

“I’m finished. Thank you again for the meal, Tezuka-san.”

Tezuka’s mom smiles and dabs at her face with a napkin.

“Oh, it’s no trouble! If I had known you were coming over….”

-

Fuji takes the stairs masochistically slow. Tezuka waits for him on the landing and Fuji can’t read his expression at all.

“Your mom’s nice,” Fuji says, just to say something.

Tezuka looks like he’s trying very valiantly not to roll his eyes.

“Yes, she is.”

Fuji doesn’t remind him that their school bags are downstairs by the door. He follows Tezuka into a room near the end of the hall. The sign on the door says _Kunimitsu_.

Tezuka’s room is pretty clean. There are some tapes on his book shelf and his closet door is open. Fuji doesn’t see any manga or video games. Maybe Tezuka doesn’t own any. He’s got a framed photo of the group shot of last year’s tennis team on his window sill.  Fuji walks over and picks it up. He and Tezuka are near the front, Tezuka’s frowning a little and Fuji’s smile is wide and dazed.

“Your room’s nice,” Fuji says, just to annoy Tezuka.

“Yes, it is,” Tezuka says and closes the door behind them. Fuji can’t tell if that’s a joke but he laughs anyway. Tezuka crosses the room and sits on his desk chair, leaving the bed for Fuji. Fuji can’t stop laughing. That sick happiness is back, and his knees shake a little as he crosses the room and kneels down on the floor in front of Tezuka, just to be contrary.

Fuji doesn’t know how to behave. He’s used to being frustrating, not frustrated. He keeps waiting for Tezuka to clear his throat and lay out just exactly what they’re doing here, to draw some lines and say _I forgive you and I want us to still be friends_.

Fuji’s smile cracks at the thought, and his throat closes a little. He realizes he’s been staring at Tezuka’s knees and he lifts his head. Tezuka’s expression is soft and it hurts. Fuji wants to rise on his knees and rest his arms over Tezuka’s. He wants to keep Tezuka from saying, _let’s just forget about it._

Fuji swallows instead.

“About earlier…”

“I forgive you,” says Tezuka as he pushes back his chair and slips down onto the floor in front of Fuji.

Fuji’s staring and he can’t stop. Tezuka reaches up and brushes some hair away from Fuji’s face. Tezuka leans forward and kisses him. It's a quick, unmistakable motion.

When he pulls back Fuji can’t stop his grin either, can’t stop the hand that reaches up to grip the front of Tezuka’s shirt, can’t stop something in his chest from melting at the sight of Tezuka smiling a little back at him.

“If we’re supposed to be studying we should have at least brought our bags up here,” Fuji says, tipping forward, drawn inescapably towards Tezuka. He thinks of the Tezuka Zone and almost laughs. Everything turns into tennis sooner or later, even this.

Tezuka does roll his eyes this time and Fuji laughs.

“You’re welcome to go get them if you want,” Tezuka says. “Don’t you have an English test next Monday?”

This is teasing, Fuji knows. He bites his lip and scoots forward until their knees touch.

“You’re amazing,” Fuji says and doesn’t explain, just leans forward to kiss him again.

* * *

Fuji watches it unfold from the roof, camera poised and ready as Eiji rounds the corner screeching, Momo in hot pursuit and Kaidoh three steps behind. Eiji plays it perfectly, pitting Kaidoh and Momoshiro against each other so that the water gun fight escalates too quickly for anyone to stop it. For the grand finale, Eiji blasts Momoshiro, somersaulting out of the way just in time for Momo to empty his squirt gun in Tezuka’s face.

Fuji takes pictures until he runs out of film.

-

Fuji walks up to Tezuka where he stands glowering and dripping onto the court. Around them the regulars wheeze through their punishment laps. It’s slow going for Eiji who’s laughing so hard he keeps falling behind. Fuji will show him the pictures he took of Oishi later, their vice-captain got caught in the crossfire trying to mediate peace. He got some excellent action shots of Oishi brandishing two water pistols and tearing after Momoshiro for revenge.

Fuji holds out a towel. Tezuka takes it and wipes off his glasses. A warm feeling twists in Fuji’s gut.

“Twenty laps for being late,” Tezuka says and turns back to the court.

 “Sorry, Captain,” Fuji says and smiles bright.


End file.
